


a wait that lingers on

by lady_mab



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Pack Dynamics, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: Even’s fingers press to his jaw,[...] guiding Echo back. “I shouldn’t have left you all.”“We left each other,” Echo says, uncertain if they’re trying to convince Even or themself. “You’re not to blame.”“I was the leader--”Echo shakes their head, lifting their hands to frame Even’s face. “You still are mine.”(A pack awkwardly reunites a year after the Miracle.)





	a wait that lingers on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheOxfordEnglishFangeek (jadinacookie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadinacookie/gifts).



> RAREPAIR SWAP FOR JADE! I picked up the pinch hit the moment I got the email. Ground Game OT4 as found family/pack dynamics? hell yeah hell yeah! (And thanks to Dora for listening to me use them as a soundboard/giving me ideas for the plot) 
> 
> Guess who has been playing too much Werewolves of the Apocalypse? Guess who went through and gave each of them a totem and an auspice because that's where my nerd level is at.

Even moves through the Mirage as easily as breathing. The lights of it reflect off his coat, the fur blacker than it had been at the start of the year -- blacker than it had been when he first stepped foot onto Quire. 

It’s been a long year since the Miracle. 

Even feels every second of it in his bones.

His claws click against the swirl of colors, the starstuff turning solid beneath his steps. The Mirage echoes the sound, folds it up on itself, and scatters it into the never-ending space. He doesn’t have a guide, and directions wouldn’t have been any help in this space anyway. 

Instead, Cascara finds him. “You came,” she says, though she doesn’t sound surprised. “I’m glad.” 

A huff works its way out of his throat, wry amusement. “You definitely made a compelling offer.” 

She is looking out into the Mirage, focused on some middle distance -- something he wouldn’t be able to find no matter how far he ran. “You are also looking considerably better than the last time I saw you.” Cascara’s attention pulls back to him, and she tilts her head to the side. “Why do you wear your wolf form in the Mirage?” 

It’s hard to shrug in this form, but she must understand all the same. “Some level of modesty, then?” she asks, amused. Her clothes remain as pristine as they always have been in the short time he has known her. 

Even inclines his head, and acquiesces to a scratch behind the ears. “Not all of us have your abilities.” He sits back on his haunches and watches as her gaze slips to somewhere else. “Do you bring news?” 

“Everyone has agreed,” she says after a pause. “They’re on their way here.” She doesn’t specify, but then again, she didn’t need to. Cascara knew who he meant, and answered in kind. 

His ears press back against his head, and he fidgets in his spot. “All of them?” 

Cascara offers a secretive smile as her fingers tap out a rhythm on the arm of her chair. “Of course. This wouldn’t work otherwise, and I might be here to call it off instead of to greet you.” 

“In the Mirage?” 

She gives him a knowing look, and Even ducks his head. “I wanted to check on you, Even. Will you be alright?” 

He hesitates, and then shuffles his feet to lie on his stomach and rest his chin on the Mirage floor. “I still wonder why you asked me to come back.” 

“Even--” Cascara starts with a slight laugh. “They will still follow you.” 

“Under what conditions?” 

“None. You know better than that.” 

He huffs again, and his tail gives a lethargic swish. “I failed in my duties over the last year. I failed…” He remembers the Miracle, he remembers the Doyenne, he remembers-- 

He remembers failing so many. 

Her hand lands on his head, light and reassuring and just as unreal as the rest of the things in this space. “They’re still your pack,” she says softly, fingers carding through his fur. “They will follow you unconditionally.” 

Even is uncertain how long he remains like that before there is a nagging in the back of his head. The urge to get to his feet. The urge to keep going forward. Hesitation and self-doubt is a fool’s game. He feels the beat of wings in his breast, and pushes himself upright. 

Cascara rolls back and nods in approval. “We are meeting at Anticipation Falls before nightfall. The day is yours.” A soft, pleased smile works its way onto her face. “I will be glad to see you all together again.” 

“It will be good to be reunited again,” he says, but when he looks back at her from over his shoulder, she is already gone. 

Even chuckles, the sound a half-growl in his throat. 

The wings beat harder in his chest, and he braces himself. The shift from the Mirage to Senechal is as easy as thinking.

* * *

Echo weaves their way through the crowded streets of Seneschal. It’s an easy, fluid dance, despite the bodies. There’s a clamour of languages, of colors, of scents. Of the overwhelming sense of a disjointed unity, but a unity all the same. 

It makes them nervous and hopeful and uncertain. 

That is why they were all brought back together -- to protect this nervous and hopeful and uncertain future. 

A pulse beat in the back of their mind, and they pull to a stop in the middle of the walkway. The crowd easily ebbs around them, parting without pause. 

Echo closes their eyes and listens, pulling the sounds apart until they hear claws on asphalt, a tug at the strings of their heart. 

Their eyes flutter open in time to see a black wolf dart through the crowds, unhindered, unnoticed. 

The fur is blacker than they remember, and there is a limp in the loping gate, but they would know that wolf anywhere. 

Echo takes off after him at a run -- keeping pace with a grin, like this is a game -- an old, familiar game. 

The wolf swings into an alley, and Echo wheels in after. The wolf is on them a moment later, but they embrace him, unafraid. 

Even woofs, tail wagging excitedly as Echo runs their fingers through his fur -- rubbing his ears, down his neck, across his flanks. The wolf nuzzles them, wide-mouthed panting as he nips at their jaw in response to the affection. 

Echo finally wraps their arms around him in a hug and buries their face against his shoulder. They breathe him in, the warmth of familiarity, the scent of strength. “I’ve missed you,” they say against his fur.

There’s a shift, the creaking of bones reshaping, air heaving out of human lungs instead of lupine. 

Even braces himself against Echo’s side, and ducks his head against their shoulder as well. “You’ve cut your hair,” he says, fingers teasing the edges of it. 

Echo smacks him, lightly. Fingers on flesh, where seconds ago they had gripped fur. “Don’t think I can’t see that limp. What trouble did you get into without me there to back you up?” 

“I can’t have my beta picking my fights for me.” Even breaks off into another laugh as Echo smacks him again. 

They can’t bring themself to look at him yet. As if the illusion of him would be shattered -- a figment of the Mirage to tease them. 

Even’s fingers press to his jaw, wiping away the trace of wolf slobber before guiding Echo back. “I shouldn’t have left you all.” 

“We left each other,” Echo says, uncertain if they’re trying to convince Even or themself. “You’re not to blame.” 

“I was the _leader_ \--” 

Echo shakes their head, lifting their hands to frame Even’s face. “You still are mine.” 

He huffs a breath and looks away, so Echo guides him down so they can press a kiss to his forehead. Even his hair is blacker than they remember it being, but they don’t comment on it. 

“The others will agree.” 

“And if they don’t?” 

“I’ll force them,” Echo says simply, and this earns them a smile of amusement. Then, after a beat, they ask, “Do you want to look for the others?” 

They don’t say that they can sense them in town. They arrived early, left their belongings at the Falls, and went to explore. Hoping and dreading of running into the rest of the haphazard pack. 

It’s obvious that Even feels the same. 

Still, he sits back on his heels and nods. “We’ll go.” Even closes his eyes, shakes his head like a dog dislodging water from his fur, and then the ink-black wolf stands before them again. 

Echo takes one last moment to trace their fingers back through his fur, and then, with a grin, they drop to their wolf form and savor the rush of freedom that it brings as they turn to follow after Even.

* * *

Gig has a local snack in one hand, drink in the other, and views the world through two different eyes. 

The drone camera flies ahead, drops behind, focuses on anything remotely interesting as he walks. He frames the shots as he goes -- mentally scripting a show that will never be aired. Wide angles, panning left to right, dramatic zooms. A clip of that couple laughing, those two children tugging at the toy they both want, the tails of a fine coat. 

Curious what sort of figure the person in the coat cuts, Gig’s eye circles once around their legs before panning up, up, up, and--

He chokes on the bite of food and drops his drink. 

Grand Magnificent frowns as the drone hovers before his face. “Spying on people again, Gig?” he says, though it’s barely audible across the distance and the noise in the city and the static buzzing in Gig’s ears. 

_Not if I knew it was you. I couldn’t find you. Everyone else in the galaxy saw my show -- did you?_

Gig swallows all of the thoughts down that run rampant through his head. Instead, he picks up his cup, dutifully throws it away, and makes his way to catch up with his eye. 

The smile comes naturally, but the corners of Grand’s eyes pinch when they finally stand before each other. “Well look what the cat dragged in! Mister Grand Magnificent, is it really you?” Gig paces in a circle in one direction while his eye spirals in the other. 

Grand struggles to keep them both in his line of sight, twisting one way, then another, before finally taking a step back as Gig pops back up in front of him. His coat does a dramatic flair, enough to reveal the butt of a gun strapped to his hip. 

Gig doesn’t frown, doesn’t flinch. He’s a professional, after all. “Alright,” he says to an explanation that wasn’t given. And then, because he’s concerned, because he never wanted to admit how scared he had been, he asks, “You let yourself be found?” 

Grand looks away, and Gig watches the shadows of his jaw as he works over the retort. “Cascara has her ways.” 

Uncertain if he’s annoyed that one of the pack couldn’t track Grand down, or relieved that if he couldn’t, at least no one else could, Gig shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I’m surprised you showed up.” 

There’s no reaction, though he had been hoping for one. “I’m surprised you did,” Grand snaps back. “Got tired of DIY videos for kids?” 

Two things happen at once -- both so fast that Gig has a hard time processing either. The first is a small vindictive trill of excitement at the knowledge that _yes_ , Grand did watch his videos. 

The second is a pair of wolves bolting through the crowded city streets with a speed and ease that Gig envied. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Grand swears, one hand pressed to his chest. The other, Gig notices, is on the holster at his side. Like some dumbass in a space western. Like it would actually be useful. “Are they idiots?” 

“What?” 

Grand looks at him in a way that is so patronizingly familiar that Gig laughs despite himself. This only makes Grand’s frown deepen. “Even and Echo--”

The rest of whatever Grand says is lost as Gig’s stomach drops and his head swivels in the direction of the two wolves. He tries desperately to see where they went, and considers for a moment sending his eye drone after them. 

There’s a sigh, and when he looks, Grand is running a hand back through his hair and shaking his head. But something in his expression softens in a way that Gig has never seen when they lock eyes. Maybe this new Grand isn’t so bad after all. 

Gig can feel every fiber in his body straining after Even and Echo. How did Grand just stand there? 

Grand makes a gesture -- part shrug, part _I never could stop you_ \-- and smirks knowingly. 

Gig’s grin widens, feels honest for the first time in a long time. He shrugs off his backpack and tosses it in Grand’s direction. “Race ya,” he says before dropping into his wolf form. 

The best part is that no one even reacts. Even if one moment there’s a tall, gangly-limbed man, and the next, a wolf takes off at a careless, head-long in the direction of the city’s edge.

* * *

Grand watches the forms of Echo and Gig bounding through the field, heads popping up every so often in the long grass before disappearing before the other can catch up. There’s a chorus of excited sounds, the most they can communicate in their lupine forms. 

Even keeps pace alongside Grand, the black of his fur reflecting the perpetual twilight of the mirage. When they’re far enough from the city, Even drops the wolf form and stretches his arms over his head. 

Grand does a poor job at hiding the way he marvels at the new scars and muscles alike. “Looks like you had a hell of a time this past year.” 

“Hardly,” he says, brushing it off. “I went right back to the military thing. I forgot how restricted I felt while a part of the Fleet.” Even gives him a curious look, but Grand refuses to meet it. 

He hadn’t meant to meet Gig’s earlier, either. 

Cascara had warned him that the she was planning on approaching the others. He knew that he was going to have to learn to come to terms with his choices and his actions from the past year, and had spent most of the ride over to Senechal trying to figure out what to say to the rest of his pack. 

The ones he had turned his back on when he should have relied on them the most. 

And it is terribly unfair, he thinks, that Even is being so polite about it. 

“If you want to go play with the others, I’ll carry your stuff,” Even offers, and Grand’s grip tightens on the straps of Gig’s backpack. 

“We’re not here to play,” he mutters, low enough that normally, a person wouldn’t hear. 

But Even does, and the corner of his mouth ticks up. He doesn’t push the topic. 

Still, Grand struggles to find a better excuse, a better reason for his behavior. Something to explain to Even why he left -- that it wasn’t Even’s fault, he had been a splendid alpha, his leadership was never in question. 

That in a moment of weakness, Grand had a change of heart. 

In the end, the only excuse he gives is a half-hearted, “This is a new jacket. I’m not about to ruin it with--” 

The rest of the thought is cut off as Echo charges at him. 

Grand stumbles to a stop, and Echo jumps so their paws are against his chest. Already caught off-balance, Grand pitches backwards -- trying to take a step to catch himself, only to find something behind him at knee height. 

He topples over Gig’s back, and if a wolf could cackle, Gig would have as he darts back out of reach. 

Grand tries to catch his breath, only to have it knocked right back out of him as Echo’s paws land on his diaphragm. They lean in, nose against his cheek and in his hair as they sniff. 

And then Echo is kneeling over him, frowning, brow furrowed. “Something’s changed,” they say, and Grand’s heart aches at the truth he’s not willing to tell. 

“Yeah,” he says instead. “It’s been a long year.” He reaches up a hand and allows himself the split second to pinch the ends of Echo’s hair between his fingers. “You cut your hair.” 

Even nudges Echo with his foot, and they make a face before rolling away and calling over Gig. 

“You wonder if he’s going to tell us?” Echo asks, loud enough for the blow to land, as they distract themself with scratching Gig behind the ears. 

Gig’s answer is an excited _woof_ , and he licks Echo’s chin. 

Grand lets his hand drop, covering his face as he sighs. 

Even’s voice is a comfort to the twisting guilt in his stomach. “Don’t feel like you have to say anything.” 

“I owe you an explanation,” he tells his palm, refusing to move his hand. 

“Maybe,” Even concedes. “On your own terms.” His hand lands on Grand’s, and it waits there until Grand accepts it. 

Even tugs him back to his feet and steps in closer -- his hand going to the back of Grand’s head as he pulls Grand in. Not for a hug, or for a back-pat, or anything like that. “It’s been a long year,” Even says, and Grand relaxes. 

“I’m glad to be back,” he says into Even’s shoulder, but this time, it’s loud enough for the rest of the pack to hear.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Pack: The Notion**  
>  **Pack Totem:** Stag
> 
> **Alpha - Even Gardner**  
>  **Tribe:** Children of Gaia  
>  **Auspice:** Ahroun  
>  **Totem:** Raven 
> 
> **Beta - Echo Reverie**  
>  **Tribe:** Children of Gaia  
>  **Auspice:** Philodox  
>  **Totem:** Skunk
> 
> **Grand Magnificent**  
>  **Tribe:** Fiana  
>  **Auspice:** Galliard  
>  **Totem:** Rat
> 
> **Gig Kephart**  
>  **Tribe:** Glasswalker  
>  **Auspice:** Ragabash  
>  **Totem:** Monkey King


End file.
